Current Affairs (Tiara Investigations Mysteries) (10 page)

My father died, and she became a widow on the very day I met my husband-to-be. At the time we didn’t know either fact. During dinner at an outdoor café in the Virginia Highlands neighborhood the night following our meeting, I got the call from Mother. My father was missing in Antarctica.
When my future husband learned I was going to join in the search, he surprised me by joining the team and staying with me. By the time his leave ended, he had told me much about his life but nothing more revealing than when he said, “I was so far gone I didn’t think I had a soul anymore, but I guess I do because I’ve found my soul mate.”

A few minutes later a Tiara call came in on my cell phone, and I ran to answer it.
“Tiara Investigations,” is how we answer the phone.
Clever, right?

“This is Beatrice
Englund
,” a woman said, and her tone indicated she expected me to recognize that name.

“And my name is Leigh.”

“Uh, I’m Kelly Taylor’s mother.” A light went on. I thought, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t say, “the First Baptist Church of Anywhere lady.” I knew exactly who she was, helmet hair, tightly pursed lips and all.

“I would like to meet with you this evening, if possible.”

Ordinarily I wouldn’t be wild about working on a Sunday night, but I was in a good mood from my on-line conversation with my husband, despite the intervening call from my mother, so I agreed to the meeting.
 
First I called Tara to ask if she wanted to come.

“I might as well. At least it’ll keep me from getting kicked out of another book group.”

“Now, Tara, how many book groups have asked you not to return?”

“Three, not counting tonight.”

“What did you read for tonight’s meeting?”

“That’s just it. I don’t exactly always read the book.”

“I’m sure that happens to a lot of members from time to time.” I was trying to be supportive but hoping she would blow it off and join me with Beatrice
Englund
.

“Tonight it was either
Jane Austen
by Jane Eyre, or
Jane Eyre
by Jane Austen.”

 
“Hon, Charlotte Bronte wrote
Jane Eyre,
Jane Austen wrote several books,
Emma,
Pride and Prejudice,
Sense and Sensibility.

“Then I guess one of you better pick me up.”

I called Victoria, and she jumped at the invitation.
 
“Do you want to get out of the house because Shorty’s not home or because he is?”

“Yes.” The cryptic answer told me he was there.

Victoria picked Tara up and then they came by for me. I told Abby she would be the man of the house until I returned. We drove the mile or so to Juanita and Juan’s Mexican Restaurant, curious as hell to learn why Kelly’s mom would want to meet with us.

“Tara told me she keeps getting cast out of book groups for not reading the books.”

“They can kick you out for not reading the book?”

Tara was touching up her lipstick because we were almost there. “You’re not technically thrown out. I’m just too embarrassed to go back. It’s because I pretend I’ve read the book. Did you know
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter
isn’t really about deer, rifles, camouflage and blinds? Well, if you’re ever in a book group, you’re going to want to know that. Next month is going to be even worse. They’re reading something by Shakespeare, which is in a foreign language.”

“It’s English.” Victoria turned off
Suwanee
Dam into the Publix parking lot, cutting through to the restaurant.

“Foreign English, the worse kind of foreign language.
Have either of you read anything written by Shakespeare?”

“Almost everything.”

I, however, put a feminist spin on it, “Just Juliet and Romeo. Don’t give up reading. Some authors can make anything interesting.”

“Who?
Can I send one of them my husband?”

“I knew I could count on you two. I need a little humor. I just had one of those conversations with my mother. She had words with one of her sisters.” I reached up between the seats and patted them on their shoulders.

“Is this the same sister she had words with a couple of months ago?” Tara blotted her lips.

“Yep, the one she accuses of sitting down to iron.”

“Does your aunt sit down to iron?” Victoria asked.

“I have no idea. Maybe it was just the worst thing my mother could think of to say about her.”

“What had the poor woman done to make your mother accuse her of such a heinous crime?” Tara asked.

“She told my mother that she was wrapping Christmas gifts.”

“Wait.” Victoria was laughing, “She was wrapping Christmas gifts in August? You’re kidding.”

“I don’t know if she really was or not, but you have to admit, it does make you feel, well, inferior to think someone else is. Vic, what do you do when you’re mad at someone?”

“Different things.
For one, I use a regular postage stamp, instead of a Love stamp for their birthday card.”

“That’s
gotta
sting.” Tara was looking out the window for Mrs.
Englund
.

“We’re here. Let’s get our game faces on.” Victoria was looking out for a parking space.

“Now if I can just keep myself from referring to her as the First Baptist Church of Anywhere Lady, I’ll be doing
good
.” I had my brush out for a quick touch-up.

“What does that mean anyway?” Victoria looked back at me.

Tara tossed her makeup bag back in her oversize handbag. “It’s like a male who says, ‘I don’t smoke and I don’t chew …’”

At that point we finished in unison, “and I don’t go with girls who do.”

Beatrice
Englund
looked a little out of place. It wasn’t the red vinyl booth with a sombrero on the wall over her head. It was due to the fact that she was eating salsa with a spoon.
“Fewer
carbs
this way.”

Tara looked for a waiter, “Can we have
queso
dip and some guacamole?
Then, looking around at us, “Four margaritas?”

“Sure,” Victoria and I answered together.

Tara instructed the waiter, “On the rocks, no salt.”

I guess Bea’s not much of a drinker, because by the time she finished that first margarita, her personality had undergone a transformation. Victoria had been waiting for that. “Did your daughter and son-in-law have a prenuptial agreement?”

“No.”

Tara started her slow grin. “
Prenups
are for fat girls.” Bea nodded and smiled that same smile. She leaned over the table and gave Tara five, and I thought,
is she a Tiara girl that has lost her way?

Bea looked down at her lap and started to talk. “Since her marriage she’s not been the same sweet girl I raised.”

“Prison changes a woman.” I shrugged my shoulders.

“She’s been overwhelmed by that big house. I wanted to decorate it for her, but my son has been ill, and I’ve had to take care of him. Maybe Kelly will move in with me now this has happened.” Here her voice trailed off like she was working out the details. “Do you three have children?” Tara and I shook our heads no.

“None that I know of.”
I smiled at my joke and at the fact. Tara was not because she had never gotten over not having a child. Victoria answered in the affirmative, so Beatrice addressed her.

“There are a handful of memories from your child’s first years that tell their whole life’s story, though you don’t know it at the time. For Kelly it was when we left for a vacation when she was three years old. My sister and I took our kids to Florida every summer. Our husbands had loaded the luggage on the roof of the car, and we started backing out of the driveway. I’m not sure why, but I looked toward the bay window in the living room. Do you remember those big bay windows we used to have? Well, I am still shocked at what I saw. We had left Kelly! My baby! I mean, I could have described every bowel movement the child had had in the last month, and I had left her in the house. I guess I thought my sister had her, or there was just so much noise and confusion getting ready to leave. And you know what? She was standing at the window looking so sad and alone, but sort of resigned to being left. She just raised her little hand and waved at us.”

Bea dabbed her eyes, as did Tara. “Trust me. It isn’t funny the way it is in the movies.”

“Dang.”
Quite frankly, even I was shocked by the story.

“I haven’t really let go of her since then.” Her voice was hoarse, throaty. “Did you wonder how I got to her so fast on Friday night?”

“Did you do it? Did you kill David?” Tara asked.

I stopped breathing, thinking we were about to have a
Murder, She Wrote
moment where the killer confessed everything at the end of the show. I was wrong. If you think about it, it was kind of a rude thing to ask, but Tara’s way was so sweet. Sure, we’re detectives, but still
.

“For the last month or so Kelly has seemed distant when she talked to me.”

Dagnabbit
, I mentally noted that she had decided not to dignify Tara’s question with a remark.
“How so?
Can you give us an example?”

“A mother just knows these things. I was concerned, so I made it my business to get to know a couple of her neighbors, and I asked them to keep an eye on her.”

“Like you want us to do now?”

 
“Yes, I’m asking you to take care of my Kelly.”

“We haven’t done very well so far.” I looked down and thought about how to sidestep her request, because for the life of me I couldn’t see myself abetting in keeping Kelly Taylor a woman-child. “The reputation of our agency is in jeopardy, so we’re very interested in learning who killed David Taylor.”

“I’m just asking for an extra set of eyes. I haven’t let go of her since she was three.” Here she looked at each of us in turn. “And I’m not going to now.”

Victoria waited while our empty chip basket was replaced with a nice full one. “Can you tell us what kind of person David was? What was he like?”

Beatrice took a beat to think before she answered. “He was very quiet, an intellectual. I think he was a good man but not the most exciting person on the planet.”

“Where was he from?” Victoria asked.

“New York.”

“Well, there you go,” Tara answered. “How about you, where are you from?”

“Originally Athens.
When I married we moved to Winder.”

“Not much difference,” I said because the towns are so close.

“My husband was a math professor at the University of Georgia. He passed four years ago. We didn’t like living around everyone he worked with. It seemed like we couldn’t have a private life.”

“My father was a physics professor at Georgia Tech,” I offered.

“Are you a Yellow Jacket or a Bulldog?”

“I went to Georgia, so I guess I’m more of a Bulldog than Yellow Jacket. Did you work outside the home?”

“I taught high school English. I retired seven years ago.”

“How did Kelly and David meet?” Victoria noticed the
queso
bowl was empty and motioned for the waiter to return.

“David was getting his PhD at Georgia, and she was getting her Bachelors. They met at a fraternity party. They’ve been married six years.”

“You said Kelly has seemed different. Are you referring to this remoteness, or is there something else?” I hated to belabor the point, but we were getting very little what I would call usable information.

“She’s been moody and depressed. This weekend she has seemed to want to open up but then hasn’t been able to tell me what she was thinking.”

“She’s had quite a shock.” Victoria emptied her margarita glass.

“Maybe it’s just being pregnant.”

That comment shut my mouth.
 
The story about Kelly being left home alone was definitely a buzz kill, but the conversation was brought to a screeching halt by this announcement.